The Lighthouse
by ahufflepuffhobbit
Summary: After some wandering, Clarke finds herself with probably the last person she would ever think of, John Murphy. Turns out, there's more to him than she ever thought, and she can't really help being curious.
1. Chapter 1

After leaving Bellamy and the rest of Camp Jaha, Clarke had no idea where to go. For the most part, she just kept walking in a straight line, her hand resting on the gun at her hip, and her eyes occasionally leaking. She couldn't help it. She couldn't get the memory of everything she had done out of her mind. Killing Dante, Jasper over Maya's body, glaring up at her, Raven and her mom on that table…It had all gotten out of hand, but once Lexa had left her, her only thought was getting her people out of the mountain, until it was all consuming.

Clarke paused, listening to the woods around her. Nothing, just the sound of her breathing. She let out a deep sigh, and continued walking, barely paying attention. She thinks that she gets it, she understands why Lexa had done it. It still hurt, being abandoned like that, and she was angry at Lexa, but…she got it. She wouldn't have done that, if the roles had been reversed, would have never even considered it. But still, she understood that Lexa was different.

She thought briefly about trying to find Polis, seeing if Lexa had gone there without her and telling her that she understood and that maybe she could forgive Lexa, but Clarke shook her head, chastising herself. She wanted to think about herself for a little bit. That was why she left, after all. Yes, the guilt and the living reminders of what she had done, but mainly, she was tired of thinking of everyone else. She had been doing it for so long now, solving one crisis after another. She just wanted to worry about herself for now. If her feet took her to Polis, fine. But she wouldn't be looking for it.

She happened to cross a stream after a few hours, and she filled up her canteen. Clarke knew she would need to find food as well, but she still had a bit left on her from the hike up the mountain. She had been too anxious to eat the dried meat in her pack then. A small smile crossed her face as she started walking again. At least she wouldn't have to worry about finding food immediately. She had enough to last a couple of days.

After a couple more hours, she stopped. The woods stretched on around her. Clarke had no idea where she was, and it didn't really bother her. She looked around and saw that the trees near her were pretty large, and she went up to one that had a branch low enough for her to grab. After a few minutes, she was settled on a wide branch, leaning against the trunk with her legs in front of her. She had seen the Grounders sleep in the trees before, and Clarke figured she wasn't so high that she would be seriously injured if she accidently fell out.

Clarke let out a breath and tried to relax. She knew that sleeping would suck, but it was necessary. She had gotten used to the nightmares anyway.

It had taken four days for the woods to turn into plains. She didn't see many people, and when did, she quickly turned in the opposite direction from them, and any animal she saw, she immediately tried to kill by throwing her knife. Sometimes she wounded it enough to catch it and kill it, sometimes she didn't. Clarke's moods hovered between sadness, anger, and nothing. Today, a week after she had left the camp and her people behind, it was anger.

She was angry at herself, of course. She supposed Octavia was right, everything was her fault, because everyone was depending on her, and she had trusted Lexa. But she was still angry at the other girl for not even trying to understand her position. She was angry at Maya for dying, and Jasper for hating her. Of course that was her fault, too. She was angry at her mother for letting Clarke push her around, and for getting caught by the mountain men. No matter how good it felt to be angry at everyone else though, she recognized that the only reason she was angry at them was because of the position that she put them in.

Clarke stopped in the middle of a field, tall grass spreading out for miles, it seemed. She closed her eyes and breathed, trying to hold onto the anger. Because it was better than being sad, even if she was only angry at herself. She allowed herself the time it took her to have a drink of water, and a handful of the berries that she had found, to have a break. Lexa had pointed out the berries one time when they were walking and told her they were safe to eat, so she had made sure to grab as many as she could whenever she found them. After another drink of water, she continued walking.

Eventually, a few days later, she found herself faced with sand. Miles upon miles of sand as far as she could see ahead of her, and for the first time since she had left nearly a week and a half ago, she looked back. She wasn't sure if she could do this. She had read about deserts on the Ark, of course. She knew it was easy to die out there in the vastness. Clarke continued looking behind her, looking at how far she had come, while she felt her canteen. She had filled it at the last stream she came across. It was nearly full, she was trying to make it last. She knew she had a good amount of berries, and some dried meat from the last rabbit she had killed. Finally, Clarke tore her eyes away and turned to face the desert again.

She couldn't go back.

And really…she wasn't so convinced that her dying would be a bad thing. If it did happen.

Clarke let out a sigh, and nodded to herself before continuing on, slipping slightly on the sand. She wondered how far it went. She wondered if this was idiotic and suicidal. A wry smile crossed her face; it wouldn't be the first time she had done something idiotic and suicidal. Hell, she should be comfortable with it by now.

Clarke didn't let herself think. Any thoughts in her head were focused on staying alive, watching the sand, trying to figure out if any of her future steps would be her last. A sand storm forced her to stop, and she laid on the ground, her jacket pulled up around her face to keep the sand from it. She fell into a fitful sleep.

When she woke up, she took a tiny sip of water, and another bite of food, and forced herself to keep walking. She trained her eyes on the ground, always watching in front of her, instead of where she was going. Maybe if she hadn't been doing that, she would have stepped on the landmine. As it was, she stopped walking and just stared at it, and then looked for another one, her eyes landing on one a few yards away. The sand storm must have blown enough away that the tops were poking through the sand, allowing Clarke to see them.

At least, she hoped this was all of them. She could see enough metal poking through the sand that her eyes widened, and she took a shallow breath. She gulped and took another step forward. When she didn't blow up, she let out a breath. She just stood still for a moment, cataloging where all the mines were. She hoped they ended at the huge dune ahead of her.

Clarke shook her hands by her side and then took a deep breath before taking off, running between the mines she could see, creating a zip-zag pattern between them all.

Once she reached the base of the dune, she threw herself onto it. She lay there, her head resting on her forearms, while she tried to catch her breath. She couldn't believe that she was alive. She ran through a minefield…and lived.

Clarke rolled over and let out a hoarse laugh.

John woke up on the bed. He had spent the weeks since he came inside the lighthouse exploring the inside and the land surrounding it. He had found a bathroom, two bedrooms, and more non-perishable food than he had ever seen. As well as a kitchen, and the garage with the motorcycles.

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't great. Probably for the first time in a long time, John was kind of lonely. He hadn't been completely alone since being released from the Skybox. Even when he was being tortured by the Grounders, he was at least around people. John didn't like it, and was at the point the he was considering going and looking for Jaha, despite the fact that he hated the man.

John showered quickly. When he had first found the bathroom, and discovered that the solar panels that were hooked up allowed it to have hot water, he had spent about two hours in there. Now though, he wasn't nearly as dirty, and he didn't feel like he needed to necessarily savor it. He would shower again tomorrow, after all.

Today though, he wanted to go hunting. He liked the food that he had found here, inside the lighthouse, and since he planned on staying for a while, he didn't want to go through it all. Meat would go nicely with a lot of it anyway. First he would need to fashion a spear, though. The oars from the boat that he and Jaha (and Craig) had taken would work well.

John stepped outside and made sure the door blended in with the rest of the lighthouse. He hadn't seen anyone else here, but he didn't want to risk losing his place. His own little slice of the Promised Land.

He went around the solar panels buried under the foliage and headed towards his boat. There were a few other boats littered around the shore, and they probably had oars too. 'Maybe I should grab some of those too,' he thought to himself. He was probably halfway down the beach, when he saw her. He would recognize that blonde hair anywhere.

The fact that she was lying, passed out, in the exact same place where he had woken up when he got here did not escape his attention. "Clarke?" His voice came out dry from disuse as he walked over to her. He bent down and rolled her over onto her back, checking her pulse first. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt it, strong beneath his fingers.

He looked around, noticing the boat that she probably took a few meters away. What was she doing here alone? What was she doing here, period? "Alright, Princess. Here we go," he said, grabbing her hands to pull her into a sitting position. Draping her over his shoulder was difficult, but she wasn't all that heavy. He paused when he was next to a boat and grabbed two oars out of it, figuring he should get working on the spears while waiting for her to wake up.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, I wanted to make up for giving you very little dialogue last chapter. This one has a crap ton of it. It's mainly just Clarke and Murphy getting a feel for each other, now that so much has changed. Next chapter, we'll start moving with the plot and the Clarphy :D I hope you all like it! You all were so nice in your reviews! I know all authors say this, but reviews and follows really do inspire me to write more. Thank you!**

CHAPTER 2

John looked over at Clarke. He had put her on the couch once he got back inside, and dripped water into her mouth. He wasn't too sure what else to do for her. Clarke was the healer, not him. He let out a sigh and dragged a hand over his face. So much for loneliness, but he wasn't sure that having the freaking Princess here would be much better.

He looked around the space. He supposed he should probably clean it up a bit. It wasn't dirty, but a bit messy. Ever since he had seen the video of the man that he assumed used to live here killing himself, he had been trying to figure out what happened. He hadn't found that much, so it didn't take very long to clean it up. He mainly just put things into piles.

He sighed and glanced over at Clarke. It had only been a couple hours since he had found her, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't worried. Shouldn't she have woken up yet? He went over and dripped a little more water in her mouth, watching as she swallowed. "Clarke," he said softly. "Are you going to wake up any time soon?" John watched her face closely for a minute, and let out a sigh when he didn't see a change.

Getting up again, he went to one of the oars that he had grabbed, and broke off the blade of it by stomping on it. He glanced over at Clarke, but she hadn't moved. John sat down in one of the chairs and started whittling the end he broke into a smooth point. He had always been the type of person to get completely absorbed into what he was doing, especially if it was something creative. Which it was, because once he got the tip of the spear to a good point, he started carving designs in the wood. Once he finished, he figured maybe he would use the other oar to make a spear for Clarke, and then she could put her own designs on it.

John's eyebrows creased together. Was he letting Clarke stay here with him? After everything that had happened, despite her not actually doing anything to him besides banishing him the first time around, was he really willing to share space with her if he didn't have to?

He let out a sigh, and glared at her feet. He had taken her boots off after he put her down, figuring she would be more comfortable. John shook his head, she could stay if she wanted. If not, she could leave and it wouldn't bother him any. He glared at her feet again because he knew he was lying to himself.

"Why do you hate my feet?"

John jumped and looked at Clarke's face, startled. She was just looking back at him. "How long have you been awake?"

Clarke shrugged, wincing slightly. "I don't know. I woke up and you were carving. I didn't want to disturb you," she said softly. He let out a bark of laughter. Her lips pursed, and he saw her look at the door. "Where-"

"I have no idea. I think it's an island. Or maybe it was just a really big lake we crossed and reached the other side. I woke up on the beach and found this. It's the lighthouse," he explained, in a rush. Clarke looked around from her place on the couch, craning her neck awkwardly because she either couldn't or didn't want to sit up.

"Doesn't look like lighthouses we learned about on the Ark. Looks like someone's home."

John nodded, "Used to be. About a hundred or so years ago." Clarke's eyebrows scrunched together, and he got up slowly. She needed to drink water. He walked over slowly, and held a hand out to her. She only glanced at it for a second before taking it, and allowed herself to be pulled to a sitting position. He sat down on the coffee table, and grabbed the glass of water he had been using to drip water into her mouth. "Drink this," he said, pressing it to her hand. "You're probably dehydrated, or something."

She took it and drank it all, watching him the whole time. Once she was finished, he went and got her more, pressing the newly filled cup into her hand. She took a sip, before saying, "What happened, Murphy? You seem different."

"So do you," he pointed out and smirked a bit. Clarke bit her lip and nodded.

"I won't ask, if you don't."

"Fair enough. Can I ask just one question though?" He had to know. Clarke shrugged, which he took to mean that he could ask, but she may not answer. "Where are the others?"

"Back at the camp," she said softly, before taking another drink of water. His eyebrows scrunched together again, but he didn't ask any of the questions swirling around his brain. "How did you get here?"

John glanced at her and then the ceiling. "I let myself get deluded with a promise of a city that accepts everyone. Jaha can be quite convincing, apparently. Instead, I got bit by some fish monster, and found this place. Not that bad, considering." Clarke opened her mouth again, but closed it once John looked at her pointedly. One question, that was it. "Can you stand? I'll show you around."

He offered his hand to her again to help her stand. She looked at it, longer than she had before. He sighed and let his hand drop to rest on his leg, and started to leave the room. "Wait, Murphy," Clarke said, turning on the couch to look at him. "I'm sorry, I just…This is going to sound ridiculous to you, but it's been a while since someone has just been nice to me for no reason. Can you blame me for being suspicious?"

John looked at her closely. It didn't sound ridiculous. He was used to people being nice to him only to get something from him, but he was surprised that Clarke felt that way too. He hesitated for a moment before walking back over to her and holding his hand out again, "Maybe all I want from you is company," he said simply, with a shrug.

Clarke let out a quiet laugh and put her hand in his, letting him helping her stand. She swayed a little once she was up, and he put both hands on her shoulders. "Maybe we should wait for the tour," he said, but she just shook her head.

"I want to see. How long have you been here?"

John tilted his head, thinking, his hands still on Clarke's shoulders. She was gripping his forearms, trying to stay steady. "Probably…three weeks? I don't know. Sometimes I don't leave for a while, so some days have probably blurred together."

Clarke nodded, and her hands dropped to her side. John let his hands hover above her for a moment, but when she didn't sway again, he nodded and led her out of the room.

* * *

After the tour, which Clarke seemed amazed by the whole time, just like he had been, he showed her the second bedroom. "I don't know what you were planning, but you can stay here, with me, if you want."

She looked over at him from where she was sitting on the bed. "I didn't have a plan. I just…needed to get away. I don't know if I'll ever go back."

John shrugged at her, "It's your decision. There's plenty of room for the both of us." He let out a strangled cough. She was looking at him like he had just offered her all the chocolate in the world. Hell, maybe he had; he still hadn't taken stock of everything here. Clarke smiled at him. An honest to God smile that reached her eyes, and stunned him. She had _never_ smiled at him before.

"Yeah, I think I'd like it here," she said.

He nodded, and offered her a small smile. "Come on, I'll show you the shower." John led the way out of her room and to the bathroom.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked more questions," she said, standing in the small bathroom with him while he got the shower running.

"Yeah, well, we had a deal, right?" He looked over at her, some of the shower spray hitting him because the curtain wasn't quite closed. "Why? You wanna tell me?"

She quickly shook her head. He just nodded at her in response and walked past her, pulling the door behind him. Before he could close it, he heard Clarke's voice. "I just- Thanks, Murphy. I know I'm not your favorite person. You didn't have to do all this for me."

He glanced back at her, watching her fiddle with her jacket. "_I_ never had a problem with _you_, Clarke," he pointed out, softly closing the door.

* * *

While Clarke was in the shower, John fixed himself a drink of the brandy, and started working on the spear for her. By the time he had the tip at a good point, he could still hear water running, so he figured he should find some clothes for her. Whoever had lived here (the guy from the video, his mind was convincing him) had extra clothes. He went to his bedroom and looked through the drawers. He found a pair of shorts, and a T shirt that would probably fit Clarke while they washed her regular clothes.

The clothes in hand, he knocked on the bathroom door, "Clarke?" He opened the door just a bit so that she could hear him. "Clarke?" He was looking at the wall closest to him, which was opposite the shower. Still, he could hear her open the shower door.

"Yeah?"

"I found some clothes for you. I figured you wouldn't want to put your clothes back on without washing them first."

"Yeah, that's a good point. Thank you." He just nodded, and tossed the clean clothes into the room.

"Um, I could start washing your clothes now, if you want." He gulped and continued staring at the wall, hoping she didn't take it the wrong way. He didn't know why, but Clarke made him nervous. Maybe because he was never sure what she was going to do. Everyone else from the Ark was fairly predictable, but…not Clarke.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks." John nodded and slipped into the room, his eyes locking on the pile of discarded clothes. He quickly swooped it into his hands and left the room, letting out a breath when he was on the other side of the door. He tilted his head slightly when he heard Clarke chuckling. He felt the back of his neck warm slightly when he realized she was probably laughing at him.

He let himself get distracted with the process of washing the clothes in the sink. When he first got here, he had looked high and low for a washing machine. He had figured there would be one, considering everything else that was here, but he didn't find one. He just threw all of Clarke's clothes into the sink and started scrubbing it together, not paying attention to what in particular he was grabbing, because his neck might just warm up again.

"Hey," John jumped again at Clarke's voice, and turned to look at her. She had a small smile on her voice and was watching him again. She looked probably the cleanest he had ever seen her, and her skin was faintly pink. She had probably had the shower as hot as it would go.

John shook his head, and narrowed his eyes at her. "Stop sneaking up on me," he growled. Clarke just shrugged at him.

"Maybe if you weren't so distracted by washing my underwear you would have heard me coming," she replied, her smile growing into a grin, and he felt his neck warm up again. He took his hands out of the water, and gestured for her to step up to the sink. Once she did, he walked over to the opposite counter, leaning against it. "So, what now?"

John shrugged, and then realized she couldn't see it with her back turned to him. "I don't know. What do you mean?"

"What have you been doing this whole time here? Maybe I could help with…whatever it is." John looked at the back of her head. It's not like it was incredibly important he figure out what happened with the guy who used to live here. But besides hunting and finding more food, that was really the only thing he was doing.

"You want to help me," he stated, the disbelief clear in his voice. He heard Clarke sigh, and she went about wringing all her clothes our before hanging them over various objects to dry.

When she was done, she turned to face him and replied, "Look, I left so that I wouldn't have to think about everyone else anymore. That doesn't mean I don't care about them though, and I'm constantly second guessing my decision, even though I know it was the right one for me. Maybe I just need a distraction, alright?"

John ignored the urge to ask her again what had happened. "There's nothing wrong with thinking about yourself first. You're the only person who won't let you down, you know?" He was speaking from personal experience, of course. She just looked at him again, as though she was trying to figure him out, and it made him smirk a bit. "Come on, I'll show you."

He led her back into what he had dubbed the living room. He picked up the spears first. "I've just been eating what was here, but I figured I should start hunting soon. That's how I found you. I was going down to the boats to grab oars," he explained, showing her the one he had made for himself, before handing the other spear to her. "I figured you could put your own designs into the handle if you wanted."

Clarke took the blank spear from him, but he didn't miss the way her eyes swept over his enviously. "I don't know if I could make mine look as good as yours."

He just shrugged, taking the spear back and placing it against the wall. "I could show you how to do it. It's not hard, just takes practice," he replied, gesturing for her to sit down on the chair that he had sat in previously. "When I first got here, I sat in that chair, and this video started playing. I've been trying to figure out what happened ever since."

He played the video for her, and just watched her face as she watched it. He didn't need to watch it again. He practically had the whole thing memorized; he had watched it so much. She was leaning forward, her elbows resting on her thighs, as she listened. When the gunshot went off, she let out a breath, and her hands were clenched together. Immediately, just like he had when he first saw the video, she turned around to look at the couch. It was the same one from the video, except for one thing, which Clarke pointed out, "What happened to the body?"


End file.
